Words Lie
by Snowflakes-GSR
Summary: GS - A secret from Sara's past threatens her career :Complete:
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** Lithium Shamrock (LS)  
  
**Spoilers:** After PWF  
  
**Paring:** Implicated (and backed) G/S  
  
**Authors notes**: A look into the characters post PWF, and Sara's past.   
  
------  
  
It was unusual. A conversation had actually ensued a statement.   
  
And the conversation wasn't an argument.  
  
Or a threat of bodily harm to a fellow colleague.   
  
"The human body is made up of 75% water," Warrick added sharply, trying to assert his knowledge into the conversation, before tossing a football to nick, which he deftly caught.   
  
"I know." Sara said, leaning against the fridge, "but I _need_ coffee" she whined.   
  
Coffee was Sara's life force. Well, not the coffee itself, but the caffeine. Who needs sleep when caffeine will suffice?   
  
"Sorry Sara, we can't help it if the coffee machines is broken." Nick responded, giving her puppy dog eyes.   
  
"Can't Greg fix it?" said, tone almost pleading.   
  
"Yeah, if you want to explode" Nick laughed, throwing the ball back to Warrick, just missing Catherine, who was seated to Warrick's left. Warrick smiled at Nick, and the game of 'toss the football' continued.  
  
"I said Greg, not Cath" Sara said quietly, but defiantly.   
  
Sara stared coldly at Cath, who returned the stare. There was no love loss between them. It wasn't a secret that after the explosion, Sara really resented Cath, not only because of what happened to her, but because of what happened to Greg.   
  
Sara hated to see his hands shake. The lost confused expression on his face. He didn't look the same. She feared he wouldn't be the same again. She hated change.   
  
"Whoa guys, can we cut this out?" Warrick said, fearing another outburst. Sara was always making trouble these days.   
  
"Man," Nick started, "you can't keep on like this," he said harshly.  
  
Catherine shrugged it of, and carried on reading the report in front of her. Sara's stare moved from Cath to the glass of water.   
  
Water. It makes up 82% of a persons blood. Blood. I bled because of her.   
  
Grissom came in, and regarded Warrick coldly as he was just about to throw the ball back to Nick.   
  
"Warrick," Grissom asked question.   
  
"Yeah boss?" Warrick asked defensively, eyes darting between him and Nick, looking for some help.   
  
"This isn't a football field"   
  
Before giving Warrick a chance to respond, he began opening case files. He looked at Sara, but she gave him the same cold stare she gave Cath.  
  
He was so infuriating, but Sara always knew this. Getting close to him meant being drawn in. Things always felt so close to happening…but never did. She decided that distance was probably the best cure for whatever "this" was between them.   
  
Sara wasn't just distancing herself from Grissom. They all had noticed. And this distance wasn't just physical, it was emotional to.   
  
She never seemed to smile anymore. She seemed to verbally attack every person who spoke to her.   
  
Warrick and Nick had tried talking to her. Cath couldn't really be bothered. And Greg… Greg seemed to be elsewhere these days; he was almost as distant as Sara.   
  
Her response was always "I'm fine." People never say, "I'm fine" if they're ok. It's an unconscious cry for help.   
  
Grissom was tempted to say something to her. She should be at the table with everyone else, not looming in the background. But he knew if he said anything now, she'd argue. He wasn't arguing with her in front of everyone.   
  
He hated arguing with her.   
  
Her words always seemed to burn.   
  
And the memory of his words to her, they burned him too.   
  
"Ok, Warwick, Nick, Catherine, ill need you all on a RTA on 95."  
  
"Any details?" Cath said, looking toward Grissom.  
  
"Yes, but they're sketchy at best, early reports indicate that a Tanker collided with the intersection, and people don't keep there distance these days." Grissom said grimly.   
  
"Sara and I will be on a attempted rape/murder case," Grissom said, closing the folders.   
  
"Any details?" Sara imitated not just Cath's question, but also her tone of voice.  
  
Grissom looked at her, slightly shocked, and was just about to say something – to reprimand her - but changed his mind, and decided it might be best to answer her question, but ignore its deliverance.   
  
Cath just smiled to herself played with her nails. She didn't need Sara to punish her. She was doing that herself. She punished herself every time she saw Greg.   
  
Grissom again hesitated before giving the details. Maybe he should have put her on the RTA; he knew how Sara was rape.   
  
"A man tried to rape a prostitute in a back ally, he didn't realise she had protection, a gun."  
  
"Girls gotta have protection these days," Cath said absently.  
  
"Got a name on the guy?" she said, folding her arms, and placing her half empty glass in the crutch of her arm.  
  
Grissom wondered why she was continuing this. What was she playing at?  
  
"Yeah, he had ID, name's 'Jack Letts'."  
  
Sara dropped her glass, and didn't even flinch.   
  
Glass scattered across the floor, but her eyes remained fixed on the back wall, before she closed them, and turned away.   
  
"Sara…" Warrick ventured.   
  
"You ok?" Nick continued, asking the question everyone was thinking.   
  
"Leave me alone. I'm fine" she answered, monotone.   
  
No one ever says they're fine when they are.


	2. Chapter 2

It shows how much they all respect him. They looked to him for a signal of what to do next. No one said anything.   
  
Grissom exhaled sharply, and looked at Sara.   
  
Catherine regarded Grissom. He was going to mess this up. He always did when it came to Sara. She wasn't going to fix things this time. She didn't care about Sara like she used to. She didn't care about a lot of things anymore.   
  
"Come on guys," Catherine said getting up. She walked quickly out the room not even taking a second look at Sara.   
  
She froze for a moment when she saw Greg. No music. He wasn't doing anything. Literally. Well, if staring out into space counted as something, then yes, he probably was doing something. He was so pale. 

It's amazing how drastically perceptions can change. Before, his scruff haircut seemed to yell rebellious. Now it seemed to whisper,

'Dejected.'  
  
The worse thing was that he didn't blame her.   
  
She could cope if he blamed her.   
  
Warrick and Nicks eyes froze on her exit, questioning her actions. They were confused. Normally, they would try to comfort Sara. But they knew it would be like trying to hug a cactus, yet far pricklier. But they did want to help. Somehow. And if that involved leaving, so be it.   
  
When she noticed they hadn't followed, she appeared at the doorframe. "We have an RTA to deal with" she shouted, and left.  
  
Warrick and Nick looked at each other, searching for each other's response, before following Catherine. Warrick took one last look at Sara before he left. She was still turned away from the room.   
  
*        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *  
  
"Sara…" Grissom said, the only other sign of his approach to her was the sound of glass being lightly treaded on.   
  
"Don't," Sara said. Her voice sounded distant, slightly choked with tears.  
  
"Sara, how do you know this man?" he said softly.   
  
She turned to look at him, for a moment, her face was unguarded  
  
She closed her eyes. She remembered his face.   
  
She opened them and slightly scowled.   
  
"I don't know him." She replied, her tone flat.  
  
Grissom's customary eyebrow rose. He didn't believe her.   
  
"Look, I don't know him!" she said angrily, striding out of the break room.   
  
Grissom watched her leave. His team was falling apart. The room always seemed to drop several degrees if Cath and Sara occupied it. Greg never played music anymore. Sara seemed to be even aggravating Warrick and Nick these days.   
  
But it wasn't constant. Sometimes things seemed fine.   
  
But then again, sometimes he could hear.  
  
Sometimes he couldn't.   
  
Things definitely weren't fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Grissom was slightly shocked to see her leaning against the Tahoe. 

When he couldn't find her in the lab, he decided it was best to deal with the case. 

_She was here – but he knew this was the last place she should be. They both knew she couldn't work the case. _    
  
Her eyebrows knitted in the middle, looking at the ground, kicking up the dirt a little.   
  
Grissom stood just watching her.  
  
She'd been like this before.   
  
She was like this the last rape case they had.  
  
She took them all so personally. But this time – this time she seemed to have a reason.   
  
He headed hurriedly toward her. She couldn't be on this case. He had to deal with work before everything else. He had to deal with work before he dealt with her.   
  
They were both dedicated professionals. Nothing seemed to stand in the way of their jobs. He could justify his decision to ignore her, he could justify that she should feel the same way.   
  
He had to. His life was his work. And the only constant was evidence. Evidence didn't lie. Evidence didn't proclaim it was "fine."  
  
"Sara, what are you doing?" he said, slightly agitated. She knew the rules. She knew she couldn't be on this case. Yet she was here.   
  
"We got a case, remember?" She prolonged each word, acting as though nothing had happened.   
  
"Sara…" Grissom started, he was frustrated, and didn't quite know how to convey his feelings to her.   
  
"You know I can't let you work this case." He gestured.  
  
She hated his hand gestures. She hated his vagueness. She hated him not specifying what "this" was.   
  
Sara stopped scuffing her feet, she looked directly at Grissom, her eyes were full of a passion she usually held for her cases.   
  
She looked like she might hit him.   
  
Or cry.  
  
But she didn't. She calmly said "ok" and walked back into the building.   
  
Grissom was confused. She was going from one emotional extreme to another. Fighting her corner, then giving up her cause.   
  
They were going to have to talk. Later.  
  
For now, he had a crime scene to deal with.


	4. Chapter 4

"Doc." Sara said plainly walking into the morgue.   
  
Sara's mind was frantic.

_A name is a name. It might not be his wallet. It might be someone with the same name. Then again, it might be him.   
_  
"Hi Sara, I thought you and Grissom where at the crime scene." He said quizzically, while not paying much attention to Sara's presence.   
  
"Yeah, well, Grissom wanted me to check out the DB while he was at the crime scene, time saving." she said tactfully, moving closer into the room.   
  
"Ok, well, here's Mr. Letts" He said bringing her round to the table. He removed the sheet mid-way down the body.   
  
He hadn't been dead long, the skin was pale, and he smelt heavily of liquor. 'Bushmills whiskey…" she thought to herself. He always drank that. She had always concluded that he drank the expensive stuff to hide the fact that he'd lost his job.  
  
In the end all we have is outward appearance, we can only be what others imagine us to be. If a person drinks expensive liquor, naturally you assume that he has money.   
  
Appearances can be deceptive.   
  
Sara's eyes locked on the body. Out of all the dead bodies she had seen in her life, this one was probably one of the only ones that she knew when 'it' was alive.   
  
It was him. No doubt about that. No doubt at all. She would recognise that face anywhere. She saw it all the time. It never went away. His face never went away.   
  
It was attached to every smile, every frown, and every thing she felt. Every rape victim she saw clarified his face. This was probably the closest she'd ever been to him. She had always kept her distance.   
  
"So, what happened?" she said, finally looking up from the body.   
  
"I thought there was a witness?" Doc Robbins said in question, slightly confused at her reactions. The way she looked at the body reminded him of what new graduates look at their first dead body. Usually right before they vomit.   
  
"It pays to be observant," she said distantly, still staring at him.  
  
_If eyes were the windows to the soul, her body was empty._   
  
"Well, he was shot in the thigh," Doc Robbins said, as he uncovered the body, and indicated the wound.   
  
"But that didn't kill him," she said, irritated, and frowning. "What about the head wound"  
  
"Sara, are you on this case?" he questioned. Apart from being confused, he was also irritated.   
  
"Why?" she said quickly.   
  
"You don't seem to have all the details." He said finally, searching her expression. Unfortunately, in his job, it was hard to read facial expressions.  
  
Well, facial expressions on a person with a pulse.   
  
She scowled at him, "tell me about the head wound."   
  
Although Doc Robbins was feeling aggravated by her behaviour, he decided divulging the cause of death might be the quickest way to get her to leave. "Well, from what the guys said who brought him in, the woman shot him, he stumbled backward, and hit his head on a dumpster." He said.   
  
Sara continued staring at the body. Her face was full of contemplation. Doc Robbins could recognise that expression, it was one Grissom usually held before suggesting a theory, or alternate theory.   
  
"There's no mystery here Sara, I think what happened…. happened."   
  
"Was it painful?" Her voice was again, distant.  
  
"What?" Doc Robbins was ultimately shocked by her questions. He'd only been asked that question a few times before, mainly on mass murderers, and child molesters.   
  
"Was the way he died painful!" She shouted.   
  
"Possibly." He stared at her, and decided he better elaborate. "Bullet tore the dermis through to the femur bone. As for the head wound, well, massive trauma to the occipital lobe and cerebellum causing a massive haemorrhage, although death wouldn't have been instantaneous.   
  
"Good" she stated, and stared at the body for a little longer before leaving.   
  
Doc Robbins shook his head. He'd noticed she'd been acting strangely recently; but it was best not to question her actions. Leave that to the people who know her.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews – they brighten my day – really they do – much thanks for the people who review every chapter.   
  
Since I've been told that I'm a "tease" - ill post the content of 2 chapters in this chapter)   
  
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Grissom drove to the crime scene. He mentally shook himself every time he thought of her.   
  
Sara.  
  
He ached to know what was troubling her. How did she know this man? She didn't seem overly happy he was dead…nor did she morn. But she did know him, which was probably the only thing he could be sure of.   
  
What did the name "Jack Letts" mean to her? He had no record. Not even a parking ticket. And his DOB – it made him much older than Sara. He wasn't even a teacher or lecturer – so she couldn't know him from school or college. He didn't even work in law enforcement – he was a stockbroker.   
  
How would an old male stockbroker know a young female CSI?   
  
He switched off the ignition, got out the car, and walked hurriedly to the crime scene. He hoped the thoughts of Sara would dissipate. Sometimes they did at a crime scene.   
  
"Why was the body moved?" Grissom questioned.   
  
"Damn ENT's thought there might be a pulse, they pretty much destroyed the crime scene after taking him to the ambulance – decided it would probably be better of if they took him to the morgue." Brass said, his tone irate.   
  
"So, what's the verdict," Grissom said, walking with Brass to a back alley.   
  
"Man was drinking in a bar across the street – O'Neil's – then a pro – by the name of Leslie - asks if he wants her services, he agrees, comes across here –"  
  
"- And that's when things 'get heavy,'" Grissom interrupted, looking at the crime scene. There was a visible patch of hair and blood on the dumpster, and blood on the floor.   
  
"She gets out her gun – a Beretta 92F – she's got some explaining to do on where she got that – and shoots him in the thigh, guy falls back on the dumpster – smashing his head into it."  
  
"What you ruling?" Grissom said casually, taking some sample of blood.  
  
"Possibly Self defence – the gun shot didn't kill him – and she shot him in the leg - but ill have to confirm with the DA." Brass said.   
  
"I need to talk to this 'Leslie,'" Grissom said, straightening himself up after bending down to observe the blood pattern, created by the body.  
  
  
  
"Sure – we need to see if she has GSR on her." Brass said, leading him to what could be considered a victim or perpetrator, depending on you stance on 'self-defence.'   
  
"I thought you were solo on this case," brass stated, and stopped walking.   
  
"I am," Grissom said, slightly confused at this statement. To which Brass pointed out Sara, dodging between officers, ducking under yellow police tape.   
  
Grissom considered his options. "Give me a minute." Grissom said quickly before turning and walking hurriedly to Sara, to prevent any further access to the crime scene."  
  
"Is that her?" she questioned, trying to push by Grissom, who was matching her movements so she couldn't pass. She was also looking over his shoulder trying to get a better view. Grissom took her by the shoulders and stared at her.   
  
"You shouldn't be here," he said firmly. He was concerned, her actions were, although in character, were becoming dangerous to the case; she could at any moment compromise it.   
  
"Is that her?" she said angrily, trying to escape from Grissom's grasp.   
  
"I'm not answering that Sara." He said, trying to suppress his anger.   
  
"I - "   
  
"'I-' nothing Sara. You are going to go back to the crime lab right now – and wait in my office - or I will suspend you" – he said the words before he thought about them. They were automatic, woven in to the responsibility of being the employer. Yes, her presents could be detrimental to the case, evidence could be compromised – but should he have threatened that?   
  
She took a few long breaths – apparently trying to calm herself down, she stopped struggling in Grissom's grasp, and finally said, "ok," in a soft whisper. He released his grasp on her – and she just walked away.   
  
He wanted to follow her. He wanted to help her.   
  
But there was a crime committed, a scene to examine, and evidence to take.   
  
----------------------  
  
Grissom arrived back at the lab, and after taking the samples to trace – he walked hurriedly to his office. He was prepared. Whatever she had to say, he was prepared.   
  
He opened the door.   
  
_No one._   
  
He checked his desk for a note.   
  
_Nothing._   
  
"Hey Griss – I -" Catherine began.   
  
"Have you seen Sara?" Grissom interrupted, whilst still looking round for a note on his desk. 

_Damn paperwork._   
  
Before protesting, or adding a sarcastic comment of "nice to see you too" – she decided she better answer. He looked frantic.   
  
"No." she drawled.   
  
He looked sternly at her. "Have you seen her," he said, slightly emphasizing each word.   
  
"Look Grissom, I'm not her personal assistant. I don't keep track of her." She looked at him, his eyes were desperate. 

She gave in. 

"About half an hour after you left, she went out, she said she had to go to a crime scene, and I haven't seen her since." She said, slightly annoyed at his tone of questioning.   
  
"Why are you here? He said looking up from his desk, after the realisation kicked in that Sara hadn't returned to the office like he requested – like he demanded.   
  
Cath sighed. 'Grissom, the master of social conduct.'  
  
"The RTA was a real mess, Nick and Warrick are processing, while I get some background on the multiple fatalities"  
  
"Ah," grissom said, before walking round to his to his desk, sitting down and staring at it.   
  
She knew he was thinking of her – and by the time he'd contemplated the right thing to do – it might be to late.   
  
Cath contemplated on whether or not to instruct him. She did before – with the plant – but that was different. Her and Sara were actually talking. But Cath didn't want to feel responsible for anyone else's pain.   
  
"Go to her house Grissom. Talk to her – the only persons' head she doesn't bite of these days is yours – and that's only because she's giving you the silent treatment." She said in a motherly tone.   
  
"And if she's not there?" he said, looking directly into Caths' eyes.  
  
"She will be," Cath said sternly, "You need to go now Griss, when she left here, she was in a bad way."  
  
Grissom brow knotted, and he looked at her in concern, "suicidal?" he stated simply.  
  
"I don't think so Gil. She just upset. She needs someone to talk to. And….I think that person needs to be you."  
  
He grabbed his coat and left the room. 'I'm going to her because I'm worried – worried about what this guy means to her - that's all' – he thought over and over again. Sara's strong – she wouldn't do anything like that.  
  
Would she?


	6. Chapter 6

He drove.

He seemed to know where her house was, even though he'd never been there. Never. But he and every employee's personal address and telephone number memorized. Just in case.   
  
And Sara's details were like instant recall  
  
Etched in his mind.  
  
He approached her door. The light was on. That was a good sign. Facts kept appearing in Grissom's head; like most women commit suicide in the bathtub, due to consideration of whoever has to clean up, and how about 60% of suicide victims' use a firearm.   
  
Her gun.   
  
He ran to her door, and started knocking furiously.   
  
Nothing.   
  
"Sara" he yelled, taking a few steps back, trying to see if there was any movement from upstairs.   
  
"Sar-" his voice was cut off with the opening of the door. She was there, he ran to her.  
  
"Grissom? What the hell are you doing? You're gonna wake the neighbours," her voice increased with anger and volume.   
  
"You weren't at my office…. I was worried." He said, calming himself. He was glad she wasn't hurt.   
  
He was glad she hadn't hurt herself.   
  
She was touched by his concern – he rarely showed it – and when he did show it – it was usually followed by discipline.   
  
"Come in," she said cautiously. She offered only because she knew if she didn't, he would have insisted.   
  
_If only I hadn't dropped that glass. If only I treated him like any other DB.  
  
But he wasn't any other DB._  
  
"So Grissom" she said, trying to break the awkward silence. It wasn't like work, she couldn't vacate the room, and this was her home. "Why are you here?"

_ As if I don't know…. he's here to give me a pep talk then fire my ass. Or at least suspend me. Hopefully he'll skip the talk and cut straight to the chase._   
  
"I thought you might have…." He cut himself of, just realising what he was just about to say, in essence, what he had said.   
  
"Hurt myself?" she said darkly sitting down on her sofa, Grissom remained standing, and watched her.   
  
He nodded. "Yes," he admitted, there was no point lying to a CSI.   
  
"I have no right to," she said, looking up into his eyes. His face was so soft, with hints of concern.   
  
Feeling as though his height and stance may be overwhelming her – or at least making himself look more domineering than he wanted, he sat down, before speaking.   
  
"I don't understand." He said, looking at her.   
  
"The memories might be mine – but the suffering isn't." she said, half whisper – half sob.   
  
"Sara – I won't make you tell me about this," he paused, "if you don't want to talk about it," he continued softly.   
  
"Its…its not that I don't want to talk about it – I'm just afraid that you'll be disappointed in me." She said, trying to bide herself time, and work up enough courage to tell him.   
  
He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to be a hypocrite. If Sara told him something dreadful about herself – he couldn't promise that he wouldn't be disappointed. He weighed up his options.   
  
"Sara, I promise I wont unfairly judge you," he chose his words carefully – like a DA preparing his summation.   
  
"Ok, Griss. Ill tell you. Ill tell you who Jack Letts' is," she sighed heavily before continuing.   
  
"I must have been eleven maybe twelve. My mom and her had always been close, you know?"  
  
"With whom?" Grissom question.  
  
"Grissom, this isn't a case…well, I'm not a suspect. You'll get all the information you need – but you cant interrupted," she said with a small smile.  
  
He responded with a quiet "ok," and allowed her to continue.   
  
"She was our neighbour across the street – every so often, mom would leave me with her. She was nice, she always smelled of home cooking – that's something she used to try and make me do – cook. I hated it – the cooking, I mean, not the company. She was a nice woman." She said, smiling at the memories.   
  
"She used to always take pills – one day I ask her what they're for – she tells me they're for epilepsy – so I ask my mom that was – and she told me about the seizures and everything – and that's why Marie – did I say her name was Marie? Didn't work."

She paused to sigh. "I only saw her have a seizure one – a petit mal – it was scary – I was only a kid…"she said trailing off.   
  
"You don't have to justify being scared," he said reassuringly from the other side of the sofa. He didn't know whether to draw closer to her or not, he didn't want to scare her.   
  
She gave a small smile before continuing, "I rarely saw her husband, I didn't think she did either. He worked all hours at the office. Until one day – I go round to her house – and she tells me I can't stay. I ask my mom about it – and she tells me that Marie's husband lost his job." Sara said distantly, "I asked her why that meant I couldn't go over there – and she just said 'something's are hard to cope with'" Sara continued, taking a look at Grissom. He was really listening to her.   
  
"So one day, about a week of not seeing her – I go over, and Marie answers the door. Her face-" Sara paused, and swallowed hard, "It was bruised. Badly." She brought her hand up to her face, and whipped away a tear that was forming.   
  
"So, I told my dad what I suspected. I told him 'I think he beats her' – and straight away, he goes over there." Sara paused, and didn't continue. She just stared vacantly.  
  
"Sara," Grissom called. She didn't even blink.  
  
He moved closer to her, but not to close, just so near he could touch her arm. "Sara," he repeated.   
  
"Hmm?" she said, apparently not really stirred by his actions.  
  
"Anyway" she continued, before her voice went back to how it was before, "Dad comes back, really mad at me. He tells me that Marie had a bad seizure, and that her husband didn't appreciate me drawing attention to it." She said, turning to Grissom, "but I knew that those injuries weren't from a seizure – they were from his hands."  
  
"Your dad wasn't to know," he said reassuringly.   
  
"Yeah – I doubt he even saw her," she said sadly. She never knew if her father had seen her – if not he was in no part to blame – if he had and had ignored them for one reason or another – well…she felt sickness forming in her stomach.   
  
"I saw her a couple of days later – god grissom – she looked worse for wear – and she was smoking. I don't think I had ever seen her smoke before. She always told me it was a bad habit…"  
  
" - Possibly her way of coping," Grissom interrupted. Sara didn't mind this time – he was interested – he was listening. He wasn't listening just to the content of her story – but the emotions of it.   
  
"Yea," Sara agreed. "Well, she beckons me over, and I go, but I walk really slowly, she tells me that her husbands gone out for the day – and that he wont be back for awhile," Sara held another pause, before turning her complete body toward Grissom, without moving any closer to him.   
  
"Then she touches my face, and tells me I'm beautiful. She tells me to never let a man take away my beauty – and there was something in her eyes – that's when I knew what had happened to her. I knew he raped her." Sara said dejectedly.   
  
She looked at Grissom. He didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything.   
  
Sara just continued looking at him, more for comfort than for anything else.   
  
I get home from school one day, to see police tape around her house – and a squad car. I try to get in, but the officers stop me. My dad sees me struggling with the officers, and takes me home. He told me – he told me that Marie had fallen down the stairs – so I tell him that I think she was pushed…." She stopped, and exhaled heavily.   
  
"What did your dad say?" Grissom uttered just louder than a whisper.   
  
"He told me that I watched too much TV – and that Marie had stopped taking her Clonazepam, which caused her to have a large seizure."   
  
"But you don't think she stopped taking her benzodiazepines, do you?"   
  
Sara shook her head. "No – and there wasn't even a post-mortem because Marie had seen her doctor in the last 6 months – and the husband was a great liar." She sighed.   
  
"And I knew if there was a way to prove she still took her medication….." Sara began, "I knew there and then I wanted to be a CSI Grissom, I didn't know the name for it, but that's when I knew what I wanted to be." She said passionately.   
  
She weekly smiled at Grissom, who returned it. "Her husbands name was Jack Letts, wasn't it?" He said quietly.  
  
She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply for a few seconds, before opening them and looking at Grissom, "yes" she weekly responded.   
  
"But now…" her voice still week, "every abused wife I see, I'm a kid again, I'm helpless, I'm there for the after party. That's why I have to work so hard to prove it."  
  
"I dedicated part of my life to finding Jack Letts, I lead her, a lead there, never enough to find him. But to know he's dead…. its…"  
  
"A relief?" Grissom suggested.   
  
"More of an affirmation of my vocation." She said determinedly, and forced a smile.  
  
"Why did you think I'd be disappointed?" Grissom question, with a perplexed look.   
  
Sara bit the bottom of her lip, and looked away from him, "Because I haven't always been strong, I haven't always been…"  
  
He wiped a tear away from her face, and he felt compelled to stroke her cheek. She pulled away.   
  
"No Grissom," she interrupted his actions. "I don't want anything from you."   
  
"Sara, I just want to tell you how I feel." He said innocently. He wanted to comfort her, show her she wasn't alone, he was hear for her.   
  
"What you feel right now is pity." She said sadly, looking away from him. She wanted it to be more, but after that story, she guessed just about anyone would want to comfort her.   
  
Grissom paused for a moment to consider, before conceding.   
  
"You're right Sara, what I feel for you, right now is pity. But that isn't what I felt for you yesterday, and I wont feel pity for you tomorrow either." His words rang in her ears.   
  
"Tomorrow is a new day," Sara recited, as though she was taking words from somewhere else. She lightly smiled at Grissom.   
  
He returned it. Her words held hope. He knew they would do nothing more tonight – but that was ok – as she had said 'tomorrow is a new day,' and for Grissom, that new day held hope, for both him and Sara.   
  
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Thank you for reading this, I hope it want too cliché.   
  
To my reviewers – you've all given such encouraging reviews – thank you!


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